Ted nodded in understanding. A single enemy ship could be lying doggo… he forced the thought aside as he studied the console, reminding himself that they were committed. He couldn't keep his ship in the useless system indefinitely, nor could they hope to fight their way past the aliens at New Russia. They’d already come alarmingly close to trapping and destroying Ark Royal once.
“Prime our passive sensors,” he ordered. “Then order Kiev to pass through the tramline.”
On the display, there was a brief gravimetric flicker as Kiev vanished from the dull system, jumping directly to Vera Cruz. Ted watched, half-expecting an alien fleet to appear at any moment, but nothing happened. Cold suspicion prickled at the corner of his mind. The aliens seemed to have left the backdoor open, which meant… what? Did they believe the humans to be destroyed or were they setting up a trap further into unexplored space?
Kiev returned in another flicker of displaced gravity. “They’re transmitting now,” Farley reported. The display changed, showing the Vera Cruz system. “No enemy starships detected.”
Ted frowned. If he’d overrun an alien-settled planet, he would have been sure to leave at least one picket in the system, just in case. But the aliens knew that Vera Cruz had never been very important… at least not as far as the pre-war human sphere had been concerned. If the system had been richer, it would probably have been snapped up by the stronger interstellar powers. Mexico wasn't a microstate, but it couldn't compete with any of the major powers…
“Take us through the tramline,” he ordered, running one final check on his ship’s systems as he spoke. They were ready for anything. “Now.”
Space twisted around them as they vanished from the useless system and reappeared in Vera Cruz, where the war had begun. Ted stared at the display, half-expecting to see a wave of missiles lancing towards them, followed by clouds of alien starfighters, but saw nothing. A chill ran down his spine as he realised that the entire system was as dark and silent as the grave. There might be no one left alive on Vera Cruz, he realised, and there had never been any settlements established off-world. The aliens had seen, destroyed and moved on.
“No contacts detected,” Farley reported.
“Launch two drones,” Ted ordered. Vera Cruz’s other tramline, the unexplored one, rested at the other side of the star. They’d take hours to reach it, no matter what else happened. “If there is any alien presence in the system, anything at all, I want to know about it.”
He waited until they were well away from the tramline, then keyed his console. “Alpha Shift, get some rest,” he ordered. As always, it was a nightmare deciding when he and his senior officers could rest. “Beta Shift will take command.”
Given their location, it would be several hours before they learnt anything from Vera Cruz itself. Passing command over to Fitzwilliam — with a muttered order for him to take some rest himself in a few hours, Ted stepped back into his office and lay down on the sofa. Sleep overwhelmed him within seconds and he fell into darkness.
* * *
Piece by piece, the display built up a picture of the Vera Cruz system. James knew, from the files, that the system had never been considered particularly interesting, lacking even a large asteroid belt or a gas giant. Without them, it was unlikely that Vera Cruz would ever develop into a major industrial node. But the Mexicans hadn't cared, he knew; they’d merely wanted to establish themselves as an interstellar power. They’d invested billions of pounds in setting up the infrastructure to take thousands of colonists…
And then lost it all, James thought, sourly. For Britain — or any of the other major interstellar powers — such a disaster would be bad enough, but for the Mexicans it would be catastrophic. Somehow, he doubted that they’d insured themselves… and even if they had, there would be years of legal wrangling before anything was paid. No insurance company had offered a policy against alien attack, prior to First Contact. It was probably covered under Acts of God.
The aliens, it was clear, hadn't been particularly interested in the system either. There was no hint that they’d surveyed the handful of asteroids in the system or landed a settlement on Vera Cruz. It was an empty world, now that the humans had been exterminated; logically, the aliens could have taken it for themselves. But maybe they had good reason to hold off on landing colonists, he decided. After thousands of humans had been slaughtered, it was unlikely that the human race wouldn't retaliate against alien settlers.
Landing colonists on New Russia makes sense, he told himself. Human shields. We couldn't bombard the planet without killing millions of Russians.
He scowled. If there was one thing the human race had relearned over the past two centuries, it was that such tactics couldn't be tolerated. Showing weakness, even an understandable reluctance to accidentally kill friendly civilians, only encouraged the terrorists and insurgents who had fought and died fighting the civilised world. They were evil, of that James had no doubt, but were the aliens? Were they deliberately using the population of New Russia as shields or… or were they utterly unaware of what they were doing?
It seemed impossible, but the aliens weren't human. They might be humanoid, yet their thinking might be very different. It was possible that they regarded themselves as completely expendable, let alone human captives and civilians. Or that they were willing to leave human civilians alone as long as the civilians did as they were told. But the silence from Vera Cruz suggested that the entire planet was dead.
Unless they’ve decided not to risk using radio, he told himself. But he wasn't optimistic.
“One of the drones is entering orbit now,” the sensor officer reported. “It’s still picking up no trace of alien starships.”
“Put the live feed on the display,” James ordered. “Let's see what happened here.”
The drone wasn't as advanced as an orbital recon platform, not like the systems that kept Earth’s surface under 24/7 surveillance. But it was advanced enough to pick out the remains of the colony… and note the places that had once been human settlements. Now, they were nothing more than blackened ruins. Even the handful of farms, carefully primed to feed the main body of colonists when they finally arrived, had been destroyed. One of the analysts dug up the original files from Vera Cruz and placed them on the display, next to the images from the drones. It was all too clear just how badly the settlement had been hammered by the aliens.
“Interesting,” Major Parnell said, through the intercom.
James jumped. He hadn’t realised that the Royal Marine was watching the live feed from the drones… which was stupid, he rebuked himself. The Royal Marines would be very interested in alien conduct on the ground.
“Yes,” he agreed, sardonically. “Why?”
Parnell didn't respond to the sarcasm in his tone. “There should be much more devastation,” he said, instead. “If the aliens took out the colony from orbit, there should be nothing more than a giant crater in the ground. Instead… they seem to have raided the surface rather than simply destroyed it.”
James hesitated. As a junior officer, he had watched targets on Earth being destroyed from orbit… and he had to admit that Parnell had a point. The aliens could have dropped a handful of kinetic strikes and obliterated the colony from orbit, but the evidence suggested otherwise.
“Point,” he agreed, finally. He shivered as he studied the images of the settlement, the old file showing a standard colony arrangement, the newer ones showing destroyed buildings and… he cursed as he realised what was missing. “There's no bodies.”
“No,” Parnell agreed. There was no hint of triumph or amusement in his tone. “Sir, I believe we should attempt to determine what precisely happened to the settlers.”
“You want to go down to the surface,” James said, slowly. “Are you completely out of your mind?”
“This is the first chance anyone has had to examine the remains of an alien attack,” Parnell pointed out, smoothly. “I don't think we can pass it up.”
James consi
dered it, rapidly. The Captain would have to make the final decision, of course, but Parnell was right. There were strong reasons to make a quick examination of the remains of the colony. On the other hand, however, if the aliens returned in force the carrier might have to withdraw rapidly, leaving the Marines completely alone. The aliens would send troops down to the surface to finish them off… or simply leave them to fend for themselves.
“I will advise the Captain that we should make the attempt,” he said. They would certainly need to mine some raw materials from the handful of asteroids in the system. It wasn't something they had dared in the last system, not when there were a handful of alien ships — or drones — hanging around the tramline. “I suggest that you prepare your men.”
He smiled as an evil thought struck him. “Could you take one of the reporters too?”
“One of the experienced embeds,” Parnell said. Surprisingly, he didn't try to argue. But then, the Royal Marines had plenty of experience dealing with embedded reporters. “Not one of the newcomers.”
James sighed. The thought of abandoning the reporters on Vera Cruz was hellishly tempting.
“Understood,” he said, instead. He checked the timer and decided the Captain needed a few more hours of sleep. “Prepare your men. You’ll have to move quickly once the Captain gives permission for you to go.”
* * *
Marcus Yang had been sleeping when his terminal buzzed, dragging him out of an uneasy sleep. But at least he’d been able to sleep, he told himself; several of his fellow reporters had requested drugs from sickbay to help them sleep after they’d realised that the carrier was trapped for the foreseeable future. Lacking any real training, some of them had even started to panic… Marcus privately suspected that half of his fellows were on the verge of nervous breakdowns. Very few of them had truly understood the dangers of serving on a carrier until it was too late.
He pulled himself off the bunk and stood up, reaching for his tunic and pulling it on over his nightclothes. The other reporters in the compartment stirred, but didn't awaken, thankfully. Marcus smiled at them, then walked out of the hatch and down towards the briefing compartment put aside for the reporters. None of the others had realised — at least, not yet — that it wasn't the briefing compartment. It was merely a piece of window-dressing to impress them.
Inside, he blinked in surprise as he came face-to-face with a Royal Marine, wearing full battledress. It was hard to be sure, but the man looked to be around thirty, with a rough-hewn face that bore the marks of a lifetime in the service. He wore no rank stripes — they were uncommon on active service, where the enemy could use them to identify the commanding officers — but he had an air of authority that marked him as a senior officer. Marcus nodded politely to him, then waited. His experience told him that explanations would be presented soon enough.
“We’re going down to the planet,” the Marine said, finally. “Do you wish to accompany us?”
Marcus swallowed, nervously. The carrier wasn't going to enter orbit, unless the Captain had changed his mind. There would be several hours in a cramped shuttle, hopelessly vulnerable if the aliens returned to the system or merely if they’d left a few surprises in orbit for anyone who wanted to inspect the destroyed colony. But it would be a chance to get some real recordings, ones that would be exclusive to himself. He could dictate his own terms to his superiors, when — if — they returned to Earth.
“I do,” he said, finally.
The Marine smiled. “Then come with me,” he said. “There's no time to alert your fellows.”
Because they will all want to come, Marcus thought.
“I understand,” he said, out loud. “Let's go.”
* * *
Ted, feeling much refreshed after seven hours of sleep, inspected the deployment plan carefully, then nodded. “Good luck,” he said. The Marines would take at least an hour to reach the planet, then they’d have at least nine hours on the ground while Ark Royal mined for raw materials… unless the aliens returned. “We’ll be waiting for you.”
He settled back into his command chair, silently banishing Fitzwilliam to his cabin for a rest himself. It was nice of his XO to make sure that his Captain had a few extra hours of sleep, but it was also impractical. They both needed to be fully alert at all times… which was a joke, he knew. No military officer could remain permanently on alert.
Maybe we should have two Captains and two XOs, he thought. One pair to sleep, one pair to command… and switch every few hours.
He shook his head. There would be arguments over which of the Captains was really in command. Shared authority, military officers knew, was diluted authority, asking for trouble when the two officers disagreed. Somehow, he doubted the Admiralty would consider it a good idea.
But war will throw other changes at us, he told himself. All of the peacetime protocols would be burnt away by the fires of war. We won’t be the same again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Seen from a distance, Charles decided, Vera Cruz didn't look too different from Earth. Like most settled worlds, it was an orb glowing with green and blue light, mostly blue. There were no hints from orbit that humans had trod on its surface, but then there wouldn't be any hints on any such world, apart from Earth. The giant orbital towers — and a handful of other human constructions — were the only things large enough to be visible to the naked eye from orbit.
He allowed himself a moment of relief as the shuttle finally reached orbit and started to fall into the planet’s atmosphere. An hour of being crammed into his battlesuit inside a tiny shuttle didn't please him, even though there was no realistic alternative. Most of his accompanying squad had retreated into playing music or watching movies through their suit systems, even though the latter was frowned upon by senior officers. Charles was experienced enough not to blame them for wanting the distraction. Promising trainees had had to be removed from the program after discovering that they couldn't endure more than a few minutes of isolation in the suits.
The reporter seemed to be bearing up well, he decided, as the shuttle started to shake violently. There was no hope of hiding their existence any longer, so the pilot was trying to get them down on the ground as quickly as possible. Charles sucked in a breath as gravity started to catch at them, yanking the Marines around as the shuttle dropped lower and lower. As always, he had to fight to keep himself from throwing up. The suit’s systems would take care of it, he knew, yet it was never pleasant — and he would have to buy the drinks when the regiment next went on leave. It was the simplest way, they’d found, to discourage Marines from being sick in their suits.
There was a final series of shuddering motions that tore at the shuttle, then there was a final crash and silence. Charles staggered to his feet as the hatch opened, revealing the destroyed settlement right in front of them. The Marines gathered themselves and advanced outwards, weapons at the ready as they swept for potential threats. But nothing materialised to greet them.
The settlement was very basic; a handful of prefabricated buildings making up the centre of town, surrounded by a hundred houses and makeshift shacks built from local wood and stone. Shipping anything across interstellar distances was expensive, Charles knew; it made economic sense to start using local materials as soon as possible, even if some folks whined about pillaging natural resources on newly-discovered worlds. Besides, stone and wood were much easier to replace or rebuild than anything that had been dragged across dozens of light years from Earth.
It had once been a well-developed settlement, he knew. Now, it was a ruin. The metal buildings were melted, while the more natural constructions were burned-out ruins. His suit’s HUD identified some of the buildings — transit barracks, a schoolroom, the governor’s residence — but it was impossible to link the names with the destroyed buildings. The Marines spread out slowly, eying the blackened ruins as if they expected them to spring to life with hostile soldiers, yet nothing happened. They were completely alone.
“C
heck the buildings,” Charles ordered.
He knew he should remain with the shuttle, where he could coordinate the operation, but he couldn't keep himself from inspecting the schoolroom. Inside, it was a mess. The desks and chairs had been burned to ashes, while the small collection of electronic teaching aids were missing. There were no sign of any bodies. On the ground, he thought he saw a handful of tiny footprints, but he knew they could just be his imagination.
“They took the teaching aids,” he said, out loud. “What could they learn from those?”
“They could learn our language, for a start,” Sergeant Miles said. “One of my girlfriends used to say that a student could begin with no knowledge of English and master it through using one of those aids. I dare say the aliens are smarter than schoolchildren.”
Charles nodded as he backed out of the schoolroom. “What else could they learn?”
“Depends what modules were loaded in,” Miles admitted. “They’re produced in America, so the basics of English reading and writing are a given. Then there could be modules covering everything from basic human history to specialised Mexican history. Science and maths, farming instructions… this is a colony world, sir. They’ll have loaded as many modules as they could into the system.”
“I see,” Charles said. He hesitated, thinking hard. “They could speak to us.”
“They could,” Miles agreed. “And they could speak to the POWs, if they have any POWs from this colony.”
Charles nodded. The aliens might not be able to speak English properly — he agreed with the analysts that the shape of their mouths would probably prevent it — but they were definitely advanced enough to produce some kind of voder. Hell, he was fairly sure that Marine battlesuits could be adapted to produce sounds the aliens could understand. But if the aliens could talk to humans, but chose not to… what did that mean? Somehow, he doubted it boded well for the future.
“Hey,” Yang said. The reporter sounded unsteady; he’d been sick twice in the flight, according to the subroutine monitoring his suit. “Do you think the aliens took prisoners from here?”
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